Walking Masquerades
by Calligraphy Ink
Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir are invited to attend one of the most prominent New Year's parties of the city. Chat Noir, of course, has it in his head to do something "special" for his Lady, but an akuma decides to crash the party.
1. i - in which the scene is set

**A/N:**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Miraculous Ladybug or any of its affiliates, nor am I attempting to make money from posting this story.**

 **I ended up posting this super late eue but French people apparently don't start wishing each other a happy new year until after the year's started, so I'm not that late, right? :'^) Anyway, researching for this story was actually pretty fun (since I'm always a slut for accuracy :U ) - although I'm still nervous I screwed something up or made it too American and not Parisian haha. If any native Parisians or such notice anything inaccurate, please let me know!**

* * *

Peter always came home to the best daughters in the world, he thought.

He would arrive late at night hungry and exhausted from a ten-hour work day, no less poor than the day before, to a flat that so often felt like a dirty shack compared to other homes even only a few blocks away.

But his younger daughter, Lucie, was always there, working tirelessly on homework or studying, to look up and smile and hug her father like he had come home with a million euros. And Camille, his oldest, would be ready with one of the microwave meals for him to eat, always remembering that he would be starving after work from a lack of lunch.

They were the joys of his life; his wife had left him a few years after Lucie's birth, which had been the catalyst that plunged them into poverty.

However, the Christmas season had finally rolled around, and Peter again found himself at a loss this year with such a tight budget.

"I'm sorry," he finally told them, "but we won't be able to afford presents this year again."

Lucie and Camille took the news well, Lucie only nodding and smiling weakly before going back to a borrowed book that she was reading, while Camille reassured her father that it was all right, they didn't need presents anyway. He didn't need to worry about them being unhappy because it was all right, they understood.

Their reactions only made Peter more upset, although he kept this fact to himself; his children shouldn't be used to this, to cutting corners and buying less for themselves. They were _children_.

But he was used to this as well.

The day after Noël, Peter arrived home to find Lucie absent from her usual spot near the door. Camille was still in the kitchen, as normal, and silently pointed her father to the room that she and Lucie shared.

Lucie had come home bruised and with bloody knuckles, her clothes bearing new tears in them. A few of her classmates bullied her regularly, the wealthier ones who were constantly upset that they weren't quite wealthy enough to be somewhere other than a public school. Peter had tried to do something about it before, when the problem had first begun, but discussing the matter with the school had proven to be frustratingly ineffectual and eventually he had just given up on that front.

Apparently, they had struck again today after coming across her while on the street, teasing Lucie about her shabby appearance and then her assumed lack of gifts. By the time they had started insulting her family, Lucie had attacked, managing to punch one of them in the mouth before being taken down and beaten. She'd been lucky that the other kids had been too nervous about hurting her badly in broad daylight to do more than kick her a few times before leaving her on the side of the street.

"They even hit me with some of their new toys," Lucie whispered, sniffling and trying to hide her tears even though only her father was there to see.

As Peter comforted his daughter, he grew angry at the thought of children like those being able to receive gifts when his could not, and during a season when naughty children weren't supposed to receive anything, too.

The unfairness of it all infuriated him. But, just like his tight budget, Peter was used to that as well. He didn't find himself boiling over until it was early evening on New Year's Eve and he was walking home, work blessedly allowing him to leave a few hours early for the holiday.

Peter walked down the street lined with high-price stores and saw countless well-dressed people spending money on themselves extravagantly, climbing into their expensive cars with up to a dozen bags hanging off of their arms, and suddenly, Peter felt as if he was about to explode from all of the outrage and envy that had appeared in his gut.

He sat down on a bench, holding his face in his hands and trying to calm down.

People tended to become evil when they were experiencing extremely negative emotions - he remembered learning that from a news story discussing Ladybug, Chat Noir, and the 'akumas' during work several months ago. But the thought was quickly pushed aside by the memories of seeing others' lavish spending sprees and the purpling bruises on Lucie's face, that shouted at Peter that the wealthy were supposed to give to the poor during Christmas - that politicians, always so rich, were meant to help the public, and yet did so little, even doing worse, while they enjoyed spending so much on themselves.

 _It's quite unfair, isn't it? The affluent can afford whatever they want and more, no matter how they treat others - while you and your children deserve so much more but do not receive._

 _I can grant you the power to punish all of those wealthier than you who have done wrong, and to give away what they owe to people like you–_

 _But for a price._

—

The doorman finished smiling at the pair of gracefully dressed politicians that had passed and moved to look at the next arrival. He nearly gaped in stunned recognition, almost tripping over his next words, but to his credit, he recovered quickly. Most of the people at the venue, even the employees, knew that two very special guests were supposed to come - it had been heavily publicized ever since they'd first accepted the invitation. The doorman himself knew how hard it had been to keep photographers and the like from the hotel entrance.

"M- Mademoiselle Ladybug," he greeted, unable to help a small bow toward her. "May I see your invitation?"

Ladybug smiled at him, secretly relieved that he didn't seem to dislike her dress, which she had designed herself. "Of course," she replied, and opened the yo-yo slung around her waist with a finger, reaching into its glowing white depths before pulling out a gold-trimmed white card.

 _Mayor André Bourgeois_ , it read in elegant script, _cordially invites Mademoiselle Ladybug and Monsieur Chat Noir to a masquerade ball at the Hôtel Plaza Athénéé, Paris, on New Year's Eve from 19h00 to midnight._

She handed it over. "This is it, right?"

"Yes." The doorman glanced over it, mostly as a formality - surely no one would impersonate Ladybug just to get into the party - before placing it with the other invitations he had received. "Are you not cold, Mademoiselle? I see no coat."

Ladybug shook her head. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

The doorman paused, deciding to ascribe it to her superpowers. "I see. Is Monsieur Chat Noir not coming?"

Ladybug grimaced. "Oh, he is," she said. "He's just late."

"Do you wish to wait here for him, Mademoiselle?" the doorman asked, intensely curious; it was a popular debate, the true status of Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship.

She hesitated.

As if sensing her concern, the doorman added, "Most of the invitees have already arrived, Mademoiselle. You shouldn't need to worry about attracting too much attention here."

Ladybug relaxed. "Okay. I think I'll wait here then, if it's no problem for you."

"Of course not, Mademoiselle."

—

Adrien waved goodbye to yet another party attendee, mentally ticking another person off of the list of people he was required to greet and talk with as the son of Gabriel Agreste. It was exhausting, the number of people his father had to remain in good graces with; why did he so often have to use his son to talk to so many of them? Adrien might be the heir to the Agreste family's corner of Paris's fashion industry, but it would be decades until his father was old enough to hand over the business to him. Surely he wasn't that important yet.

"Agh," Adrien groused softly as he glanced at the time on his phone. "Ladybug's got to be arriving by now."

After a brief moment of hesitation, he decided that the last few people on his mental list could forgo never being spoken to; he'd done this often enough that he knew which people were important enough to prioritize, and if Adrien's father somehow had a problem with it anyway… he could deal with it. Chat Noir's obligations came first.

The masquerade party was being hosted in the ballroom at the Hôtel Plaza Athénéé, which was large and floored with carpet, several elegant, ornate glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and illuminating the room in soft white light. Masked and well-dressed attendees, along with the occasional server, filled the chamber until nearly the only space that remained was buffer room. Mayor Bourgeois had also apparently hired a string quartet to play for the night; their music was humming quietly in the background.

Adrien examined the area for anyone who was looking in his direction so that he might slip away. Unfortunately enough, he also spotted a familiar figure of blue and green only a few meters away - and it was heading towards him.

He glanced frantically around for an escape, but by the time that Adrien could think of one, Chloé had already arrived at his side.

She was dressed in a peacock-themed mermaid dress, shimmering in shades of royal blue and emerald green. The dress even had a small train of actual peacock feathers that nearly grazed the floor - and, to be honest, Adrien wouldn't have put it past her to make sure that they were genuine ones.

"Adrikins!" Chloé took his arm without waiting for him to offer it, looking up at him in annoyance through her feathered mask of sequins. "You left me!"

"Sorry, Chloé." Adrien damped down the frustration that was rising within him before it could leak out into his voice; if he didn't get away from Chloé, she would latch onto him and never let go, and he needed to get out of sight soon so that he could transform into Chat Noir. But it wasn't her fault.

"Some of Father's friends ended up distracting me after I went to get us drinks," he finally added, a half-truth.

Adrien had initially escaped with the latter lie after he and Chloé had first arrived together at the party; they'd met in the hotel lobby before passing through the ballroom entrance, where a decorator had apparently seen fit to hang a clump of mistletoe from (he suspected Chloé of having something to do with it).

She'd been quick to point it out and, predictably, tried to kiss him. Painfully aware of the circumstances, Adrien had turned his head so that her lips only met his cheek instead, before quickly getting themselves out of the doorway and into the party proper. While untangling himself from her arms, he'd distractedly tried to appease her with excuses and then managed to free himself from her side with the pretext of going to get drinks.

He'd felt guilty about how he'd treated her afterwards; even though Chloé could act ridiculous and even petty sometimes, their families were close, and she'd been one of the only people Adrien had been able to talk to as a friend for years, after his mother disappeared.

The attachment was one of the few things even Nino, his best friend, still couldn't understand about him. But then, Nino had never been there when Chloé had first cried into Adrien's shoulder about her own mother, during the days when she'd be forced to go down to the Hôtel Plaza Athénéé's lobby just to escape her parents' shouting; when she was ten and her parents had finally filed for a divorce, sitting through numerous tension-filled legal discussions; and then the last day she'd seen her mother, when the woman had had a last, fierce shouting match with her ex-husband before leaving Chloé's life forever.

Adrien could still remember that day well - seeing the hand-shaped bruise on her forearm from being gripped too tight, pecking it with his lips like the innocent child he'd been to make it feel better, like his own mother had done with his little injuries before she too had vanished forever.

Simply put, having to treat Chloé like some sort of bothersome fly pained him. But obviously, he couldn't tell her the truth.

Luckily for his lies, Adrien had a full cup of juice in his hand; his attempts to quickly go through his father's party requirements left him no time to actually drink from it. He held it out to Chloé in a wordless plea for forgiveness.

After a pause, she accepted the cup. "Okay, but you're not leaving my sight again tonight," she said, tightening her hold on Adrien's arm. "We _are_ supposed to be dates, after all. And Ladybug's going to be here tonight! You haven't met her yet, right? I have to introduce you to her; did you know I've talked to her? We're practically best friends! I even got selfies with her once."

Adrien forced a smile on his face. "Of course, Clo," he said, pulling his arm away before her grip could get any stronger. "Just let me use the restroom first, okay?"

Before Chloé could voice any kind of objection, Adrien slipped away in between two groups of adults deep in conversation and came out the other end searching for the hall that led to the restroom. Spotting it quickly - he'd been in this specific room many times before, although not recently - he headed towards it with a brisk stride. Pausing briefly to greet one of the untalked-to people on his mental list as he passed them by chance, Adrien soon reached the hall and went through the door.

He passed by the first set of restrooms, not willing to risk the possibility of anyone already being there or entering while he was inside. Looking back at the doors to see if anyone else was following, he glanced around the hall for any possible surveillance cameras.

Eventually satisfied, Adrien quickly ducked under the rope blocking off the rest of the hotel floor and hurried down the hall until he could round a corner, doing so in order to disappear from the view of the doors. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Plagg," he whispered.

There was no response.

" _Plagg_ ," Adrien hissed more insistently.

Finally, the black kwami floated out from somewhere behind him, gnawing on a bite-sized block of cheese snatched from one of the serving trays. "Yeah?"

"Dang it, Plagg, you almost had me thinking you'd stayed back at the party for the cheese."

"The idea did occur to me," Plagg agreed. He then swallowed the rest of the cheese block, letting out a burp. "All right, so you want to transform now?"

Adrien hesitated, suddenly considering another idea. "No, not yet," he said finally. "You know all the information on my baton, right? There's a map of the hotel on it. Can you get us to another restroom around here?"

"Eugh, navigating on an empty stomach?"

"You _just_ ate an entire block of cheese."

"One, _tiny_ block of cheese. And low-quality cheese, too. Honestly, I don't understand how the humans here can consider this party high-end when they're not even serving the high-end cheeses." Nevertheless, Plagg's ears swiveled along with his glowing eyes as he looked around. "All right, kid, just follow me."

He flew away at a swift pace, forcing Adrien to keep up quickly as Plagg led him down halls and around corners for over a minute before they reached the other restroom, now on the other side of the hotel floor.

Adrien slipped inside, moving until he stood in front of the mirrors.

He looked surprisingly unremarkable for a masquerade party, having only dressed as the titular character from The Phantom of the Opera despite the limitless possibilities he could've been as Gabriel Agreste's son. Even his father had been extremely skeptical of the choice, but Adrien had managed to convince him otherwise - a success that he was still perplexed over even now.

But no matter what he told his father, the real reason was that he would be easier to miss at the party if he looked ordinary or similar to other people there; and besides, Chat Noir was already going to be attracting enough attention for both of Adrien's personas.

"This _is_ going to work, right, Plagg?" he asked, tugging on his cuffs nervously.

"Oh yeah. When have I ever lied to you?" Plagg assured and sat atop Adrien's head, forcing him to look at his kwami with the mirror.

Adrien wanted to point out an incident just because it was Plagg, but of course, he couldn't actually think of a single time his kwami had lied to him.

"Right," he finally said, exasperated.

Obviously, Chat Noir couldn't wear only his regular suit to a masquerade party this important, but neither could Adrien wear the same thing as his alter ego or afford the time and excuse to bring it a different outfit in and then change into it later. After first being invited as Chat, he'd been nearly tearing his hair out over the dilemma until he'd finally gotten the chance to talk to Plagg about it.

Surprisingly, his kwami had actually had a solution. _What, don't you think we kwamis've had to do this kind of thing before?_ Plagg had teased.

And so, a few hours before the party had been due to start, Adrien had transformed into Chat Noir before donning his alter ego's outfit for the night.

Designing it with his specific persona in mind hadn't been too tough - he'd learned a lot of things through sheer osmosis - but actually getting the materials and finding a way to make it, without betraying his secret identity, had been much harder (but that was almost another story entirely).

Once Plagg had gotten a complete look of him wearing it, Adrien had then de-transformed, the outfit disappearing along with his usual suit in the resulting blaze of green sparks.

It was supposed to reappear on him the way Plagg had seen it - sans most of his normal getup - through some kind of kwami magic, but Adrien was still anxious that it wouldn't work somehow. He wanted to make sure that it looked right.

He took a deep breath and held up his right hand, the silver ring on it glinting in the mirror.

Suddenly, he remembered something. "Shoot," Adrien breathed, reaching into his pocket and taking out a thin, wrapped box. He set it aside on the restroom counter so that it wouldn't disappear into the transformation. "Almost forgot about that."

Plagg snickered, floating back up into the air. "Can't lose your present for our Lady-friend, right?"

Adrien ignored him and raised his hand again. "Plagg, transform me!"

—

Ladybug stood just inside the hotel lobby, her arms crossed impatiently at this point. She would've been tapping her foot as well if her flats wouldn't have noisily clacked against the wooden floor. The doorman stood beside her a bit awkwardly, some of her emotions slightly infectious as he glanced at the glass doors of the lobby entrance every few seconds for a sign of any late arrivals - especially one Chat Noir.

 _If he doesn't get here in five minutes,_ Ladybug thought, irritated, _then I'm going in by myself no matter what everyone's expecting._

Despite her anxiety over mingling with politicians and fashion designers alike while dressed in her own design, she was eager to get into the party; not just because of the importance of the event itself, but because it would be the first time she ever attended anything of this stature - there were impressions to be made and essential experiences to be learned.

And then, of course, there was the fact that Adrien Agreste was almost certainly here, attending the party with his father. Ladybug's - Marinette's - nerves fluttered at the thought of seeing him dressed up in person.

"Come on, you stray, where are you?" she muttered. Her left hand anxiously fingered her yo-yo, sorely tempted to try and call her partner.

As if finally in response to her concern, there was a muffled noise and a green and black shadow suddenly dropped down from somewhere above to land right outside, standing behind the glass doors. The figure waved a black-gloved hand at her and bared a white-toothed grin.

"Finally," Ladybug exclaimed in a breath, forgetting herself for a moment and striding over to the door, accidentally cutting off the doorman.

Seeing Chat Noir clearly for the first time, however, she started before she could even touch the door.

She and Chat didn't need to dress up as something entirely different; as Ladybug and Chat Noir, the two were already walking masquerades. To dress in themes that didn't match their superhero personas would only end up being confusing. And yet Ladybug still found herself surprised.

Chat was dressed in a suit, of course, but that did nothing to prevent absolutely everything about him from still being so _Chat_ ; his black tailcoat, whose tail was split distinctly into two, was plainly open, displaying a waistcoat of green that complemented his eyes, over a white dress shirt. Instead of a bow tie, Chat wore his customary golden bell, and he had suspenders dangling freely from the waist of his black trousers instead of on his shoulders. His normal black mask was still there, as well as the cat-ear clips in his usual messy blond mane and the belt-tail; nothing had changed about them.

Nevertheless, the outfit suited Chat well, and despite herself, Ladybug thought that he actually looked almost… handsome in it.

Chat's smile had faltered at the sight of Ladybug, his eyes suddenly scanning her up and down in - shock? Awe? He looked like he was barely managing to keep his mouth from falling open.

Feeling a bit embarrassed and even awkward at the attention he was giving her - and suddenly remembering that he had never seen her, supposedly the girl he loved, in a dress before - she finally opened the door for Chat and said lightly, without thinking, "You dress up nicely, kitty."

 _Why, oh why did I just say that?_ She was supposed to be _discouraging_ his advances, not encouraging them.

"T- Thanks," Chat stammered out after a moment, finally looking away from her and stepping inside. She couldn't miss the slight daze that had permeated his words, or the faint blush that now appeared on his cheeks. As if finally remembering himself, Chat took Ladybug's hand and bowed over it, grazing the knuckles with chapped lips she thought she could feel through her own, thin gloves.

"You look beautiful, my Lady," he said softly, glancing up at her with some surprise - she had never let him kiss her hand before without interrupting it somehow - before straightening up again.

Ladybug cleared her throat, painfully aware of the doorman nearby who was watching them with no small amount of interest. "Thank you, Chat."

Finally sensing something, Chat raised his eyebrows slightly and looked, seeing the doorman for the first time, who only tipped his head silently, trying to hide his amusement; based on Ladybug's actions, he'd already judged him to be the real Chat Noir, and he certainly didn't want to interrupt them.

Chat's blush from earlier, which had started to fade, returned again. He cleared his throat too, mimicking Ladybug. Finally, he said, "Shall we grace the party with our presence, my Lady?"

Ladybug flashed a bright smile. "I thought you'd never ask, silly kitty."


	2. ii - in which a chandelier is destroyed

The first grin since he'd come through the door split Chat's lips, and he offered her his arm in a gesture of courtesy. She took it after a brief moment of hesitation, seeing the smirk in his smile and wanting to avoid making the same mistake she'd made only seconds before - which Chat didn't miss, based on the new crease in his brow.

He led Ladybug to the opened ballroom doors, where some of the party attendees had already noticed their arrival and were sneaking looks towards them in interest.

Chat stopped them under the entryway and said, out of the corner of his smiling mouth, "Look up."

Confused, Ladybug glanced up and saw the clump of mistletoe hanging above them. In a flash of exasperated insight, she jerked her head away so that her partner's lips only kissed air. Sometimes, she enjoyed playing along with Chat's antics, but she wasn't in the mood at the moment - not with Adrien only a room away.

Chat pouted at her, his eyes playful. "Come on, LB, don't be a _bug_ kill."

Ladybug snorted. "Make another pun and you'll be the one I'm killing. You _are_ a bit of a pest," she joked, leading Chat this time as she walked them out of the doorway and into the ballroom.

"You wound me, my Lady," Chat said with a grin, placing a hand over his heart.

By this time, whispers of their arrival had clearly spread throughout the entire mass of party attendees. Mayor Bourgeois appeared from within the crowd to greet them. He was costumed like a French aristocrat from the eighteenth century with his justaucorps and breeches, although he had no wig. Seeing Chloé at his side, Ladybug eyed her and her peacock-inspired dress. _Does she know that she's dressed like a_ male _peacock?_

"I'm glad you came, Ladybug, Chat Noir," the mayor said, shaking their hands firmly. "We were getting worried that you were held up somehow."

Wondering over who this 'we' was, Ladybug shook back with equal strength and smiled politely.

Mayor Bourgeois's comment reminded her of Hawk Moth, and she let herself fret for a moment that an akuma might appear amongst all of the city's emotionally-charged New Year's celebrations. She and Chat had discussed the possibility after first receiving the invitations. If an akuma appeared, they would already be prepared and transformed. And who else would learn earliest about a rampaging danger other than Paris's elite?

But the thought of them being wrong somehow - and enjoying themselves at a party while they were at it - still itched at Ladybug's conscience. And yet there wasn't much she could do about it at this point.

"I'm glad to be here," she replied, feeling as if she was lying through her teeth.

Her smile was convincing enough to fool the mayor, who cheerfully smiled back in return and led the two farther into the throng of partygoers.

"Your dress is absolutely stunning, Ladybug. A Mandarin gown?"

"Thank you, and yes; I'm part-Chinese."

"Ah, I see! It's good that you can show off your heritage so proudly."

Mayor Bourgeois soon shifted to another topic, but Ladybug found herself distracted by Chloé, who strangely seemed to be anxious as the girl almost constantly scanned the people around them with darting eyes. What was she looking for? And why was she so worried about it? _Chloé hasn't even tried to talk to me yet,_ Ladybug realized, _even though she's a big fan of me._ While the idolization usually irritated her, this time the lack of it felt like a cause for alarm.

Not necessarily saying that she cared about Chloé. But as Ladybug, she was duty-bound to protect every citizen, and out-of-place behavior was like a flashing warning sign.

"… similarities, don't you think?"

Ladybug blinked at Mayor Bourgeois, who seemed to be waiting expectantly for an answer from her.

"Oh, yes," she said automatically, not quite sure what she was agreeing with; although after noticing Chat looking at her right afterwards like she'd gone crazy, Ladybug decided that she'd better start paying attention to the mayor's words. Chloé could probably wait.

However, she found herself getting distracted again as she herself began casting searching glances around them. Soon, Ladybug spotted Gabriel Agreste near one wall of the room talking to a stunningly-dressed, matching pair of men. So the Agreste family was indeed attending.

And yet, as she continued to look around, she couldn't spot a single sign of Adrien. Noticing Chloé again out of the corner of her eyes, Ladybug suddenly wondered if Adrien's apparent absence was causing all of the girl's worry.

The mayor was still chattering away. "Uh-huh," she prompted him absently, again not sure what he was saying anymore.

If Gabriel Agreste was here, so was his son. With this event's status, there was no justification for Adrien to be absent from it, barring illness or some other emergency. And Ladybug was sure that nothing of that sort had happened, if Chloé's Facebook updates throughout the day had been anything to go by.

But if that was true, then where had Adrien gone?

* * *

Despite the fact that the mayor was speaking, Chat Noir could barely pay attention when he was walking right next to an angel.

 _Okay, if Ladybug heard me think that, she would actually kill me,_ he thought, shoving his gloved hands into his trouser pockets and gazing surreptitiously at his partner out of the corner of his eyes. _So don't say it out loud, Adrien. Don't._

She really did look like an angel though, if angels came down to earth in crimson red silk embroidered gold, black spots, and gossamer insect wings. Chat had to fight hard to not outright stare - the floor-length qipao hugged Ladybug's form snugly, and as they and the mayor cut through the crowd of partygoers, the thigh-high slits in her skirt were exposing glimpses of bare, toned leg at every other step. At this rate, Chat would need a fire extinguisher for his face.

"You know some of the things I have to deal with as mayor of Paris," Mayor Bourgeois was saying to Ladybug. He was ignoring Chat Noir - not that he minded at the moment, as distracted as he was. "Responsibility is a heavy burden."

On one hand, Chat was frustrated by his fluster. Ladybug's normal suit was literally skintight; how did a dress suddenly make her so much more attractive? Was he that shallow? He didn't think he was.

And yet. For the first time since they'd known each other, he was seeing her with her hair down. It fell to her shoulders in loose black curls, pinned in places with ivory-white barrettes, that made his fingers itch to pull off their gloves and find out how soft they were. A pair of red ribbons still extended from her hair, but these were almost as long as his Lady was tall and sided with black on one side, draping over her decorative ladybug wings in a way that made Chat suspect that wires were involved. Her delicate hands - deceptively so; Chat had seen them judo-flip too many akumas to be fooled anymore - wore black gloves to the wrist, thin and gossamer and accented gold at the cuffs. Her mask, Miraculous earrings, and yo-yo were the only thing that remained unchanged, but that only served to make her even more recognizable.

Ladybug looked stunning. Even the fact that he'd already been rejected tonight couldn't put a damper on his mood. Chat wanted to cup her face in his hands. He wanted to pull her to his side right now and color his lips with her glossy red lipstick.

 _But if I do that,_ he thought with no small amount of wistfulness, _I run a high risk of death by first-degree murder._

It would almost be worth it, too.

"I imagine that your responsibilities as Paris's heroes feel just as heavy," the mayor continued. "It gives us many similarities, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes."

Ladybug's reply yanked Chat from his thoughts. He eyed her in bewilderment. It wasn't that the mayor's talk was all politically-motivated drivel - although it was - so much as that she was agreeing for some—

 _Wait, Chloé?_

Chat was nearly ashamed that he hadn't noticed Chloé walking with them beside her father. He spotted her distress as quickly as Ladybug had, but he also knew without a doubt the reason for it - Chloé knew that Adrien had gone missing. He looked again at Ladybug, seeing her scan the crowd around them with piercing eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Chloé finally murmur something to her father and leave his side to join the rest of the party.

Anxiety formed into a lump in his gut.

This wasn't good. If Ladybug caught on to the fact that an invitee had disappeared, she would make a fuss - and then everyone would know that Adrien Agreste had gone missing.

 _Damn,_ Chat thought, arms tensing at his sides. _Just when the night was becoming fun… I knew this was too risky, attending as two people. I should've begged off coming with Father._

Nevertheless, he kept walking beside the mayor and Ladybug; what else could he do? He was almost ill with apprehension; it felt like he could only wait for the inevitable moment when Ladybug would stop and shatter his fragile attempt at juggling two well-known identities.

Chat glanced up ahead and saw the string quartet for the first time that night, playing one of their pieces. The music was faintly familiar - he might have played an adaptation of it on the piano before - and as the music rose in a slow, grand crescendo, Chat could tell that it was nearing its end.

He frowned when he saw a grand piano on the same platform, its lid propped open. An accident of poor planning, he guessed - string quartets didn't have a pianist, after all.

But maybe it was also a happy accident.

When the idea occurred to him, Chat's eyes locked onto the piano's keyboard, hidden under the black fallboard. _It probably wouldn't be proper,_ he thought, fingers wanting to twitch in sudden anticipation, _but cats aren't meant to be gentlemen._ It would be the perfect distraction.

 _And the perfect way to show off,_ he added in a deeper, fervid part of his mind - because surely his Lady would be impressed to discover over ten years of piano playing up her stray alley cat's sleeves.

Butterflies of excitement fluttered in Chat's stomach at the thought. All his normal cheer restored, he began to take longer, confident strides, walking ahead of Ladybug and Mayor Bourgeois towards the piano and string quartet.

"Chat?" he heard his Lady chirp in confusion behind him.

He glanced back and bared a full-toothed grin. _Just enjoy the show, my Lady._

* * *

Ladybug caught a brief glimpse of his teasing smirk, broad and infuriating, and then he was gone. She puffed out a breath of exasperation. What in the world was that silly kitty planning?

She wanted to hurry after him, but the mayor's presence held her back.

"I'm sorry, Mayor Bourgeois," she apologized, turning to him. "I have no idea what Chat's up to - I need to follow him. Maybe we can talk later?"

"Of course, my dear," the mayor replied gallantly.

Ladybug had to suppress a shudder as she turned away - the added term of affection had felt patronizing to the point of offense out of that man's mouth. _I need to discourage it in the future,_ she decided, automatically excepting Chat - he was different, after all. She knew he respected her.

Leaving the mayor to talk to another of his kind, Ladybug scanned the crowds for Chat. He was near-freakishly tall and the only person here wearing cat ears - he would be easy to spot, and she was not disappointed.

He was on the musicians' platform. They had stopped playing, and Chat was now writing on something on the cellist's music stand - an autograph, she assumed - while chatting with her and the other musicians amicably. The cellist, a young woman in an enviously well-tailored suit, was blushing in a very familiar way, and Ladybug groaned to herself. _Who knows how much damage control I'll have to do if he seduces that poor girl?_

Resolved, she waded through the crowd towards them.

"… feel free. We're due for a break anyway," the lead violinist was saying to Chat as Ladybug approached. "'Sides, not as if one can say 'no' to a local superhero." He was a brunet as well-dressed as the cellist, and had startlingly keen hazel eyes that made contact with hers as soon as she was in view. He nodded at her, and Ladybug did the same, too surprised to do anything else.

Chat followed the violinist's gaze and grinned when he saw her. "This is Ladybug," he said, taking her hand to help her onto the platform.

Ladybug was amused by this - the platform wasn't even a third of a meter off the ballroom floor - but she refrained from pulling away and gave him the usual look when he continued holding her hand for a few seconds too long. He only flashed an innocent smile at her again and withdrew.

"They can probably guess, Chat," Ladybug pointed out, "considering my ladybug motif. And the mask."

"Well, now they know for certain."

Ladybug rolled her eyes at him, smiling.

"Pleasure to meet you, miss." the brunet violinist greeted, holding out his hand. When she shook it, he gripped firmly. "Name's Logan. I'm the first violinist."

"I'm the second," a woman beside him added. She had a mass of curly blonde hair that looked like it was fought into its current state of a ponytail. "Ilona. But everyone knows I'm better than Logan. He's just first because his last name sounds better as the name of our ensemble group."

Logan shrugged as if it was true.

"Victoire," said the second woman, combing a hand through her boy-short auburn hair. She had a small stud piercing on the side of her nose and multiple unoccupied holes in her ears. "But I go by Vic. I'm the violist."

The cellist waved shyly from her chair. She was clearly the youngest of the group. "Hi. I'm Celia. I'm the cellist, if you couldn't tell by my really large instrument case."

Chat beamed at Ladybug as if he'd just proudly shown her something.

She rolled her eyes at him again - _honestly, Chat_ \- before smiling at the others. "It's nice to meet all of you. Were you hired by Mayor Bourgeois to play here tonight?"

"Yeah," Logan said. "Although we're about to take a break. Your friend wants to play the piano for a while, apparently."

Ladybug's brow wrinkled in confusion, and then she frowned. "Chat? Please don't tell me he just said what I think he just said."

Chat wandered over to the grand piano and pulled out the bench. "He didn't meow a word you don't want to hear, my Lady," he said breezily, sitting down to face the piano. He laced his fingers together and stretched them out to pop the joints.

Ladybug stared at him flatly.

Chat lifted up the fallboard and grinned down at the octaves of white and black keys. "Not a single speck of dust," he observed. "What is your secret?"

As Logan and the other musicians strolled off the platform, Ladybug stalked over to Chat, placing her hands down on the cheek of the piano and glowering. "Kitty. You are _not_ going to play on the piano," she said sharply. "You'll embarrass us."

"Your lack of faith wounds me, my Lady. But don't worry, I'm sure _yule log_ this."

Ladybug eyed Chat in incredulity as he gazed down at the keys and tapped at one of them with a clawed finger. The note rang out, soft and almost inaudible over the general noise of the party.

Chat hummed, matching the pitch of the note. "Not bad."

He paused for a moment, settling his right hand onto the middle of the keyboard, and then, with abruptly blistering speed, played a simple scale. Ladybug gaped as he did the same with his left, an octave lower.

She didn't know anything about playing a piano, but the easy grace with which his fingers handled the keys, the way his shoulders and arms relaxed into the notes and grew as limber as they did wielding a staff instead, made it obvious to her that Chat knew exactly what he was doing - and that he knew it _well_.

He finally glanced over, eyebrows raised, and smirked at the sight of her wide-open mouth. Ladybug snapped it closed, glaring to make up for her shock.

Chat's grin grew wider, and Ladybug thought she could hear him say it already: _Still think I'll be an em_ purr _assment, my Lady? Doesn't my playing sound_ paw _leasing to your ears?_

But to her surprise, Chat defied her expectations; instead of speaking, he turned back to the piano and began to breeze his way through an arpeggio.

Watching him, Ladybug was struck by how familiar his expression was - the same subtle, intent focus she'd seen so many times in the midst of a fight - and yet they weren't meters away from the latest akuma; they weren't battling a horde of unlucky, mind-controlled civilians.

Chat was playing arpeggios on a piano. She hadn't known he could do that. She'd never even considered it, never even entertained the notion that Chat Noir had hobbies, things that he enjoyed doing as much as he was enjoying himself now, besides flirting with every girl he meets or plotting out a future as a professional stand-up comedian.

The thought - or rather, how little thought Ladybug had ever given her kitty - was like the smallest dagger of guilt slipping through her ribs.

 _You can't blame me,_ she retorted to herself, watching Chat's hands finally stop their fluid movements, _for never thinking about his civilian life. We're not supposed to; what if we discovered the other by accident? And it's not like Chat's ever acted like the piano-playing type to—_

Notes suddenly _bellowed_ out of the innards of the grand piano, making Ladybug's hands quiver from the vibrations. She almost jumped three meters off the platform.

"Chat," she gasped, heart racing a thousand beats per second.

Chat was focused utterly on the piano, eyes narrowing and - god, his tongue was poking out - fingers flying across the keys faster than the eye could follow. Chords soon reverberated through the air like thunder, the strength of it snatching the surprised breath out of Ladybug's lungs, until Chat's left hand fumbled once and then suddenly an entire ascending line of notes collapsed in on itself, like one massive, crashing tumble down the stairs that left the stunned silence of the ballroom in its wake.

Ladybug finally sucked in air. She felt almost giddy with the music still trembling in her hands, now fastened like glue to the wood of the cheek.

"Well, damn. This piano's definitely louder than mine." Chat laughed, ignorant of the hush his audience had fallen into. "I can't believe I got that far without screwing it up." He looked at Ladybug, his grin pure exhilarated joy, and a corner of it went up higher in a tease. "But I do have my own lucky charm standing right beside me."

His cheer was utterly infectious, and Ladybug giggled in spite of herself. "As if I belong to you, silly kitty," she quipped, chastising.

Chat's grin grew wider, but then his eyes shifted to a point beyond her and widened; he'd remembered the existence of the rest of the party. They'd already returned to their conversations, but a few corners were still quiet with surprise while others had gone especially lively, and some of the last made it obvious that they were talking about him.

"Shit," he finally breathed, eyes flickering back up to Ladybug. "They heard everything I said, didn't they?"

Ladybug smiled. "Yep."

Chat groaned as if ashamed, but the cheer from before refused to leave his face and altogether ruined the effect. "At least I impressed them," he murmured. "Still think I'll be a—"

"Finish that sentence and this lid comes down," Ladybug said, tapping the upright fallboard with her fingers.

"Meow-ch!" Chat jerked his hands away from the keys, eyes twinkling. "I'd call humbug on your bluff, LB, but I doubt you're _kitten_ around this time."

Ladybug growled at him, but he only grinned.

"It's called a fallboard by the way, not a 'lid', my dear, classically-illiterate Ladybug," he added. Placing his left hand back onto the keys, Chat idly began to play chords, the notes soft again. The fact that Ladybug could recognize them as being from the piece he'd blasted out not two minutes before only made the dynamic contrast more obvious.

"What was that song you played?" she asked, bracing her elbows against the cheek of the piano as she leaned in.

Chat's fingers didn't falter, but she could hear the hesitation in his awkward cough. "'Guren no Yumiya'," he muttered.

Ladybug blinked. "Pass that by me again?"

"'Guren no Yumiya'? First opening of _Attack on Titan_?" Chat turned to peer at her and grinned at her lack of recognition. "What, not an anime fan, my Lady?"

"It never really caught my interest."

Chat made a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, incredulous. "Never really caught your interest," he repeated as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

Ladybug stood up straight and glowered, crossing her arms. "I do have a busy life, you know."

"And I have one too. _Purr_ obably even busier than yours. No excuse!" Chat grinned and winked, turning back to the grand piano to plink at the keys. "Bugaboo, I simply _must_ introduce you to the world of anime one day."

"If the akuma's kind enough to wait a couple hours, maybe."

Ladybug immediately regretted her words. She could see the cheerful light in Chat's eyes die the smallest fraction as he stared down at the keyboard, even if the smile remained. No matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise, they only knew each other because of the akumas.

The secrets bothered Chat. He wanted to tear those walls down. In fact, he had never wanted them in the first place.

But they were necessary, and he knew that too, right?

Chat was one of her dearest friends. In a way, she trusted him like no one else in her life. She didn't want him to think she took him for granted.

Ladybug opened her mouth, intent on saying _something_ to apologize.

But Chat, who had decided to withdraw into silence, began to play another piece on the piano. He was playing gentle, solemn triplets in a minor key with surprising intensity, expressionless but for the stiff frown on his face, and it took a moment for Ladybug to finally close her mouth. It felt like a door had just been shut in her face, but he hadn't turned the lock. _Give me some breathing room, my Lady,_ she could hear in the music. _I'll be fine in a moment._

Ladybug let out a breath of frustration - not with him, but with herself. Unable to do anything else, she finally braced her arms against the cheek again to listen to her partner's music.

Every moment like this made the decision to hide their real identities feel like a mistake. But they had to - what if their identities were revealed? The mere thought of reporters swarming her parents' bakery with cameras and microphones (and Alya's reaction) made Ladybug want to recoil in horror.

 _But you're partners,_ a side of her whispered, a mix of her own voice and Tikki's. _Partners. Don't you trust him? He wouldn't spill your secret for anything._

Inwardly, Ladybug scowled. That same argument always appeared whenever she started thinking about this problem as a problem. _Accidents happen,_ she snapped back, following the usual script. _And I know Chat wouldn't do it on purpose. I do trust him. It's other people that I don't trust. It's Hawkmoth that I don't trust._

 _Maybe,_ the voice said back, and this time, it used a different tactic. _But you saw how he's been looking at you for the entire party._

She had. And in favor of the other issues that had been in her mind, she'd completely ignored them.

(And ignored how thinking too hard about those flickers of his glance, constant and vibrantly green and almost hungry in the moments that he thought she hadn't noticed, made her breath want to catch and her heart skip and stutter and leap rebelliously because she was in love with _Adrien_ , dammit.)

 _You know the real reason why you don't want to tell Chat who you are._

Ladybug's thoughts stiffened, as far as thoughts could stiffen. She refused to think a single word along the lines of that "reason" entirely. It was too selfish and embarrassing.

 _He has a crush on you. But that only makes you want to cower behind the mask even more. Because without it, would he still—_

Ladybug shoved the thoughts out of her mind, taking a deep, stubborn breath, and forced herself to re-attune to her surroundings. Chat had apparently finished the first piece and transitioned into a song that was familiar to her this time, although it took a moment for her to recognize it as "My Heart Will Go On", from _Titanic_ \- she could still remember using up an entire tissue box with Alya after seeing the 3D re-release. _Chat knows this song?_

Of course such a ridiculous, romantic flirt like him had seen the movie. Ladybug couldn't help but smile at the image of her partner sitting in a dim theater, who she could only imagine in costume, blubbering and blowing his nose as the credits rolled.

She didn't realize her eyes had been closed until she opened them and found them meeting green.

Chat was gazing at her. His fingers were still playing the music, undeterred and beautifully flawless. For a split second, he was still looking at her, he was still secure in the knowledge that no one was watching; and looking back at him was like looking at his heart lain bare.

Ladybug tore her eyes away from his, dropping them to her arms still braced against the piano, her heart simultaneously soaring endlessly up and plunging down to the floor. She was suddenly breathless; she didn't notice how the next notes Chat played were stammered from trembling fingers.

 _No._ Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut again, distraught. _I will_ not _fall in love with Chat. I love Adrien. He's perfect - the perfect boy. He's so sweet, and selfless, and handsome, and kind…_

But when she tried to summon up images of Adrien Agreste, her memories of magazine covers and school days spent in longing blurred and faltered and fluttered away. All she could think of instead was the breakneck pace of the chase beside _him_ , of seamless synchrony and sidelong glances that could convey entire battle plans; his seemingly inexhaustible reserves of clever puns and flirty remarks, and the moments when he would reach their limits and leave the 'why' stubbornly unspoken. Most of all, Ladybug could see Chat - playing the piano as if the music was meant for her, gazing endlessly at her like she was all he needed to live, with a gentle, curving smile and soft, soft eyes.

The quiet, hopeless longing that she could still see embracing his every feature made Ladybug shiver with a sudden desire to kiss his heartbreak away, and she clenched her hands into conflicted fists.

She was spiraling down, down, down into emotions she wasn't sure she wanted; for the first time, she wondered if she'd already been halfway over the edge.

Fingertips, sharp under the gloves and infinitely delicate, touched her cheek, and Ladybug looked up to see Chat gazing at her again, apologetically this time, with the same soft, soft eyes that only made her head spin until she couldn't tell up from down. Heat bloomed like a desert flower from deep inside her gut, burning away the last of her resistance.

"Sorry, LB," Chat murmured, unable to help glancing away for a moment in shame before looking back at her. "I'm really sorry. I just… Sorry if I made you mad."

Ladybug giggled nervously, breathlessly. He had no idea. "No, it's fine," she managed in a bare whisper, mouth dry. "I'm… perfectly peachy." She couldn't stop falling into his eyes.

Chat's eyes widened and he swallowed, finally noticing her intent gaze.

He didn't move his hand. Ladybug didn't twitch an inch.

After a long, heavy pause, Chat's hand moved to cup her face, which Ladybug didn't react to except to close her eyes, her entire world becoming the heat of his palm against her cheek.

Slowly, hesitantly - as if he was afraid of doing something wrong - Chat caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, right along the edge of her mask, and Ladybug shivered involuntarily, her face flushing pink to the tips of her ears as she leaned in to his touch.

Chat's breath was brushing her lips now. In a distant part of her mind, she recalled the one time they had kissed before, during Dislocœur's rampage - definitely impossible to compare to now, as Chat rested his forehead against hers, still cupping her face with one hand. Both their breaths were coming faster now, hot and sweet, and Ladybug could almost feel the tip of his nose grazing hers.

She longed with an almost physical hurt to lean in and close the space between them, but she was already lying across the cheek of the piano - any farther and she would probably faceplant into the keyboard.

It would almost be worth it, too.

"My Lady." The almost inaudible words ghosted across Ladybug's lips, drawing out a shudder from her as she fell, fell into his hands which both tenderly cradled her face now, but his mouth remained achingly elusive.

"I," Chat breathed. "My Lady, only if you really want to—"

" _Please_."

It was Chat's turn to shiver this time. Ladybug lifted one of her own hands to touch his face, feeling as much as hearing a soft, steady purr begin to rumble from his throat at the contact. Stroking her face with his thumbs again, Chat finally began to tilt her face upwards to his.

He didn't get any farther than that before there was the massive sounds of shattering glass and screams. They both jumped in shock, foreheads painfully knocking into each other, and Ladybug's arms slipped from the piano cheek. She thumped onto the floor of the platform with a surprised wheeze.

"Shit." Chat shoved his way out from behind the piano bench, grabbing his staff from behind his back as he reached down to Ladybug with his other hand. "My Lady, are you okay?"

She couldn't help but notice how flushed his face was. "Peachy," Ladybug said, mind still half-stuck on the past few minutes as she took his hand and was hauled back up.

Another scream, familiar this time, drew their attention, and they looked as one to see that the noise had come from one of the chandeliers, which was now smashed against the ballroom floor. It only took a moment for Ladybug to register that several people had been injured by the glass before she looked farther and saw the akuma standing by the ballroom entrance.

"Hawkmoth has ap _paw_ lling timing," Chat grumbled, and tightened his grip on Ladybug's hand. "We didn't even get to dance."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **sorry for taking two months to get this out, go ahead and splatter me with tomatoes i am ready**

 **on another note, the next chapter will be the last! it will also take a while to get out bc i'm working on something for the miraculous march event, but once i'm finished with that i'll get crackin' (and i think you'll like it (; )**


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